


...In Pain

by CherryMountain, OnyxRing



Series: The Dreaded Realization That My Soulmate Is... [4]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bucky has issues, F/F, M/M, Pain, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, War Injuries, but it's okay Steve is there, established relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5184359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryMountain/pseuds/CherryMountain, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxRing/pseuds/OnyxRing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's arm spazzes at all the wrong times, and Steve is the only one he eventually lets comfort him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	...In Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Born with Marks. This part was, sadly, very easy for me to write.  
> The 1234567890 are my personal page breaks, I didn't feel like going through and changing them.
> 
> -Cherry

_The war had changed them. They’d been best friends growing up. They were best friends overseas. They’d seen things. Done things. Thing’s they’d never forget, that no one else understood. Then he’d woken up after the explosion. But Steve… Steve lay in a coma, and Bucky blamed himself._

_Learning that he could barely use his arm really changed Bucky. It frustrated him, and coupled with Steve’s coma, made it worse._

_He left._

_Steve woke up._

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Bucky glared at Natasha.

She wasn’t saying anything. He was use to people trying to set up a conversation. The silence bugged him.

She simply sipped at her coffee mug, watching him over the rim of it. She set the mug back down, still staring at him.

Bucky shifted, knowing she was playing some mind game. He needed to know. “What?”

Natasha rose an eyebrow innocently. “What?”

Bucky grumbled, trying to make his point. “You want to tell me something; just say it.”

Natasha’s face suddenly changed into a cold glare. “You’re _soulmates_. It’s like you’ve completely forgotten what that means.”

Bucky grumbled again, wishing he hadn’t gotten her to speak.

“Really, James,” she prodded, her voice now soft and sincere. “You can tell him anything. You should. Because we all just want to see you back to your old self. Happy. Or at least somewhat.”

He heard her words, but it had slowly been drowned out by a pounding in his arm, an all too familiar ache. It wasn’t related to his emotions, it just happened all too often at the shittiest moments.

He stood and began hurrying away, to a space with less people, less witnesses, less sympathetic eyes.

“You can’t just walk away from this,” Natasha said loudly, attempting to follow him.

Bucky ignored her, quickening his pace, avoiding any stray shoulders, but let out a grunt as his arm seized. And then, pain burst throughout it, and he cringed.

Natasha must have seen this, because she suddenly dropped the stern voice. “Shit, James.”

Bucky finally stumbled into a tight hall and found the men’s room, then slammed the door shut behind him and locked it, leaving a worried Natasha on the other side.

Bucky pressed his back to the door and dropped to the floor, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out as his limb shook. It felt like fire, and knives, and anger.

It hurt.

It really fucking hurt.

He sat hunched on the floor until the pain disappeared, then sat there some more, staring at the tiles on the floor, hating how his life had come to this.

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He punched Clint in the face.

He hadn’t meant to, really, but after it happened... he didn’t feel too sorry.

They’d been carrying cardboard boxes to the moving truck downstairs, helping Clint and Bruce move. He and Steve were dancing around each other; he knew Steve was just trying to give him space, especially in public around their friends. At home, he could sense Steve’s fears, but nothing he did seemed to help. So he ignored the dance, as if it wasn’t happening.

So Steve had volunteered to help Bruce with bringing a dresser down the stairs, and Natasha was on the phone with Pepper, leaving Bucky and Clint to stack the boxes by the top of the stairs so it was easier to deliver them downstairs instead of walking around.

Clint was just like everyone else, trying to start up a conversation. But, the blond had learned long ago that Bucky wasn’t really the talkative person anymore, so he’d stuck to pretty much having a conversation with himself.

“This coffee maker sucks, I don’t even know why we’re keeping it,” Clint said as Bucky entered the room after having moved a box. The blond hefted it into his arms. “It’s heavy as hell, and Bruce always makes tea, so my coffee tastes likes tea and his tea tastes like my coffee.” He headed through the living room, passing Bucky on his way to the kitchen.

“I think Bruce has had to fix it three or four times, the piece of junk. First a leak, then it always burnt the coffee. I think it caught on fire once.” Clint shook his head, his voice growing distant as he went out in the hall.

Bucky glanced back toward him to catch Clint set his box down, creating a new stack next to the first, wondering what the hell he was going on about. Then the blond glanced down the stairs. “It’s al _ready_ broken,” he mumbled slowly, eyeing the stairs.

Bucky lifted the next box, bringing it up to his chest, and headed through the living room toward Clint. Before he made it, however, his arm locked up, surprising Bucky. He tried to catch the box, but whatever was in it caused it to unbalance, and then it fell.

Whatever was in it opened the box and a crash of metal echoed around him, but Bucky ignored it, instead trying to breathe through clenched teeth. He would have curled up on the floor, had he been alone, but Clint was there, and he didn’t know if there was anything harmful on the floor scattered around his feet.

Pain spread up and down his arm in tremors. He hated the pain, hated how it made him so weak. He hated his arm. _Just go away. Why won’t you leave me alone_?

Something touched his shoulder, something that shouldn’t be there. Bucky spun, bringing his normal arm up, angry. “Leave me alone!” His fist connected with Clint’s jaw, sending the man sprawling back. For a moment, Bucky couldn’t feel the pain throughout his arm. Except it was still there, and when he realized that he’d punched Clint in anger- anger at himself, his arm, his life- he needed out of there.

Metal clanged against each other as he retreated, the pain returning in a wave, leaving a shout of anger and another crash behind him. He somehow found himself in the bathroom, leaning against the wall, wincing at an empty towel rack beside the door. Damn it, he hated bathrooms.

There were voices outside the door, and Bucky tried to focus on them, because anything was better than focusing on the fire in his arm.

“What happened?”

“Are you alright?”

There was shuffling, the tinkling of metal.

“It’s fine, we’re fine.”

The voices got lower, too quiet to hear. Bucky panted, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, wishing for the pain to go away. His hair fell into his face, clinging with sweat. He gasped as a ripple started across his arm. It was fading slowly, but not fast enough.

In frustration Bucky lashed out, punching the mirror above the sink. Better to punch that than people who were supposed to be his friends. It cracked in a swirl of spirals, and he punched it again, sending pieces to fall across the sink and floor. The pain faded with each punch, and, relieved, he slumped back toward the door to ride out the last of it.

Outside, the voices had stopped altogether, probably because they’d heard the clash of broken mirror falling to the floor. Then-

“Is that the coffee maker?”

“Yes, it’s the damn coffee maker!”

The voices died out again, and Bucky fought for air as he let himself settle to the floor. He should have been use to the pain by now. It wasn’t anything new. But somehow it always surprised him just how much it hurt.

“Buck?”

He cringed, at both the quiet voice on the other side of the door and a slow tremor that stretched across his muscles. Not now, not during this. He held his breath, wondering why he couldn’t just have a normal life.

Steve said nothing for a moment, but Bucky heard shuffling outside the door. Then a small sigh. “Talk to me?”

It was then that the pain finally decided to disappear, allowing Bucky to finally breathe without strain. For a moment he felt complete bliss and relief. Guilt easily replaced it when he returned his attention back to the man only inches away. He closed his eyes again, shifting on the floor to face the door. “I can’t.”

But Steve didn’t press, no matter how much Bucky wanted him to.

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Steve looked heartbroken, and Bucky felt guilty for avoiding him so much. So when Steve asked Bucky to go home with him, he said yes, hoping it would make Steve feel better.

Bucky sat on the couch most of the night. He pretended to fall asleep so Steve would go to bed, because Steve needed the rest. When he was sure Steve had dozed off, he sat up and threw off the blanket that Steve had placed over him.

Some nights he just couldn’t sleep.

He stared at the black TV screen in the dark, the only light coming from the moon outside and the faint lights of the city. He paced, thinking about nothing and everything.

Given that Steve rarely spent any time in his apartment, it was understandable that there wasn’t anything that could be considered a meal in the fridge. There was a bottle of ketchup on the door next to chocolate syrup, three eggs in a carton beside some expired juice, a bag of carrots, slices of cheese and a box of butter in the drawer, and a rack of ice in the freezer. Nothing that could occupy his time.

It was when he was drinking from a glass of water when it happened. He had barely taken a drink when he felt it; a tremor running down his arm. Bucky tried to put the glass down on the counter before anything could happen, but it was too late. Pain shot across his arm, and he automatically clenched his muscles to stop it, but as always, the pain remained, and his entire arm spasmed in strain, shattering the glass in his hand. “ _Fuck_.”

It fell to the floor, all the water it stored falling with it, but Bucky barely saw it. His entire body was struggling with the pain, and he felt like punching something, but he settled with stepping to the counter and gripping the edge to hold himself up. His head bowed to his chest, his teeth ground together from the fiery pain, willing it to go away, to be fucking normal like an arm was supposed to be.

He was seething for control when Steve suddenly appeared, wearing his white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, blond hair sticking up in all directions, eyes wide open, holding a pistol at his stomach. Bucky would have rose his hands in fake surrender, were he able to.

“Buck, what-” Steve asked, relaxing his shoulders and bringing his handgun to his side. But Bucky cut him off before he could ask.

“I’m fine,” he growled between his teeth, lowering his head again and to the side, his hair falling into his face so Steve couldn’t see the pain he was in. “Just give me a moment.”

And just as quickly as it came, the tremors in his arm left, the pain receding, back in working order. His heavy breathing was the only sound in the room, his chest moving rapidly, trying to bring everything back to normal. He placed his palm flat on the counter when he felt the water from his glass finally hit his socks. The ones that hurt the most were thankfully the shortest.

“I didn’t know.”

Bucky looked up at Steve, who was staring in sympathy. “I knew you were hurt, but even after this long?”

Bucky lowered his gaze and glared at the counter top in front of him. He didn’t know how he hid it that long anyhow. It was bound to be noticed every time he dashed out of a room and hide in some other room until the pain passed. “There’s a reason I didn’t tell you.”

“Why would you-“

“Because it’s fucking embarrassing!” Bucky turned his glare up to Steve, hating to have to say it, but he really hadn’t needed Steve to see this. Why was he asking, anyhow? This was clearly a touchy subject, why couldn’t Steve see that? Why the sympathetic look? Why from _him_?

Then Steve was on the other side of the island, and Bucky looked up enough to see his face out of the corner of his peripheral vision. “You think I’d look down at you if I had known?”

Bucky looked away again, but he didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He felt so small now, under Steve’s gaze, and he knew the answer was no.

“I care about you, Bucky, and I don’t care if you think this is some deformity.”

Bucky allowed his gaze to trail up to Steve’s face, searching his eyes.

“It’s a part of you now,” Steve said, his gaze no longer sympathetic, but confident and proud. “And…” Bucky watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed, Steve’s gaze softening. _I love every part of you._

1234567890

It happened again, at Natasha’s place. They were celebrating something, but Bucky didn’t really care all that much to pay attention. Steve wanted him there, so he went.

Bucky stood in the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by the long counter. He didn’t like being surrounded by all the small talk and laughter. Plus, Bruce seemed to be the only one that didn’t look at him sympathetically. He could deal with one or two, but not a dozen.

He opened the fridge and searched for a beer, but before he could grab one he clenched up. He quickly shut the fridge- too quickly- and held onto the handle to keep himself upright. They were all right behind him, all able to see him.

He tried to remain calm, to fight the tremors, but they clawed at him, insistent to take over his arm. He moved, grinding his teeth so he didn’t cry out, and rushed down the hall. Why couldn’t his arm ever do this when he was alone?

He locked the door and fell to the side of it, allowing himself to gasp in pain. He shook, curled in on himself, tired of it all, and let the pain overwhelm him.

He really fucking hated bathrooms.

“Buck.”

Bucky was hit with déjà vu, and he turned to the door, holding back a moan.

“Let me in,” Steve said quietly, calmly.

It was his calm voice that made Bucky reach up and unlock the door. He didn’t want someone panicking over him. He could deal with calm. And it was _Steve_.

The door slowly opened, and Steve squeezed in.

Bucky closed his eyes; Steve’s hands were shaking.

He shouldn’t have unlocked the door, shouldn’t have let Steve see him. Because now he was panicking, or nervous and worried, and Bucky didn’t-

A grunt escaped him as a stronger wave hit him, and he clenched up again. To fight the pain, because Steve shouldn’t see him like this, he had to fight it.

A hand touched his, and his eyes shot open to see Steve, calm yet worried, crouched over him. He was untangling Bucky’s hand from his jeans, something Bucky hadn’t even known he was doing. Then Steve took Bucky’s trembling hand in his own, and Bucky stared. He didn’t have long to before more pain shot up his arm.

He gripped Steve’s hand, even if gripping things never helped, but he felt he had to do _something_. All he could ever do was wait for it to end, but he had to _try_.

He closed his eyes, trembling, not wanting to see Steve’s reaction.

When the pain disappeared minutes later, and his breathing was somewhat under control, still clutching Steve’s hand, he realized there was movement at his wrist. Warm circles pressed to his clammy skin.

He blinked his eyes open to see Steve, staring between them, running his thumb across Bucky’s skin. Across the mark that was a part of his skin. The same exact mark that Steve had in the same exact spot.

He didn’t cry, but Bucky felt the pressure behind his eyes. He shifted, pulled himself upright, and shoved his face into Steve’s shoulder, choking back a sob.

Steve fingered his long hair, and it felt good, just being close to him again. He needed good in his life.

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The brunet rolled to his feet and grabbed Steve’s arm, pulling him up, too. Steve needed sleep, even if Bucky didn’t, and Bucky wasn’t going to stop him from doing that. Staying up all night doing paperwork was not something Steve needed to do every night.

He let Steve go first to the bedroom, following behind him. He watched as Steve rubbed at the back of his neck and into his t-shirt. How his muscles rolled as he swung his arms. Before, Bucky didn’t have to fight the urge to reach out and touch him.

He did now.

Bucky didn’t even realize they were in the bedroom until Steve turned around and advanced on him. Bucky didn’t know where it came from. As Steve kissed him, he felt hands on his chest, and he hummed in content, kissing Steve back.

Steve pulled away for a moment, his face hovering inches away. Bucky opened his eyes, wondering what had happened. Steve had his eyes closed, and he tightened his hands into fists, taking parts of Bucky’s shirt with them. “I miss you,” Steve whispered, his breath hitting Bucky’s lips.

Bucky lifted his hands to Steve’s sides. “I miss you, too.” Guilt filled him, for not realizing how closing himself off had caused Steve to hurt, too. “I’m sorry.”

Steve shook his head, their foreheads grazing each other. “We can do this together.”

Bucky fought back a sob, because it wasn’t alright, he couldn’t just forgive Bucky like this. “I’m so sorry.”

Bucky was pushed backwards up against the wall, with Steve pressed against every part of him. Warmth spread throughout him as Steve kissed him again, pushing his breath away. A flutter erupted inside his chest, realizing that this was getting hungry fast, with long overdue need.

Steve’s hand hit the wall beside Bucky’s head as the other pressed against the side of his neck. Bucky lips turned sore as Steve pressed harder, but if anything it drove his own hunger. Their kisses were fast and open-mouthed, their hot breaths mingling with each other, devouring, pulling closer.

Then it suddenly slowed again, and Bucky darted his tongue out as he grabbed Steve’s sides. Steve kissed him again, pressing his hips deeper into Bucky’s, causing a burst of desire to grow within him.

When Steve bit his lip and gently tugged, Bucky felt himself moan and relax into the wall in complete bliss.

That bliss only lasted another moment. As Bucky ran his right hand under the back of Steve’s shirt, he felt his left twitch. Without further warning, the familiar pain shot down his left arm, and Bucky instinctively curled his side into the wall away from Steve, turning his face from him. Steve immediately dropped his hand from the wall, concerned, unknowingly giving Bucky space to evade.

He shoved himself away from Steve, stepping into the center of the room, a gasp of pain leaving his lips. He held his breath, as if it’d help the tremors stop.

When Steve came around to his front a moment later, Bucky grabbed his sleeve in defeat, desperate for something to hold to wait this out. He saw Steve pause, look him up and down, then didn’t hesitate longer to step closer. When Steve wrapped his arms around him and pressed their chests together, Bucky let out a grunt of exertion as his own arm wrapped around Steve’s shoulders.

He held on tight to Steve, as if it would somehow prevent him from knowing just how much pain he was going through, how he didn’t want him to see, how it seemed to ruin everything.

But Steve was gripping him just as tightly, as if he, too, was holding on for dear life. Bucky could feel Steve’s nose, buried in his neck, and the warmth of both his breath and his chest, breathing shaky. Suddenly, it didn’t hurt as much, and it didn’t matter that Steve could see or feel his pain. He seemed to be in his own somehow, which hurt Bucky that much more.

After what felt like hours, the pain receded, and he unclenched his jaw to open his mouth, forcing air back into his lungs, his left arm coming up to wrap around Steve.

It wasn’t until after Bucky’s breathing was under control that he finally allowed himself to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in following us on tumblr, as we have decided to make a blog to answer any questions or to just chat and we are fairly new to it, [reignofonyx](http://reignofonyx.tumblr.com/) and [cherryonamountain](http://cherryonamountain.tumblr.com/) are our usernames! Ask, follow, or if you wanna know about updates, go there!


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